Goodnight

The classic combination of children and animals tests the limits of Tessa Waugh’s enthusiasm, as an outing intended to introduce small people to the joys of hunter trials takes a predictable turn…

Tessa Waugh’s hunting diary

WHEN I set out on Saturday with two children and their ponies, I was under the impression that we were going to enjoy ourselves. What a crazy, deluded fool I am. I think a year of home-internment has affected me mentally, made me forget how frustrating a day out with ponies and children can be.

Alec and Mary were in high spirits as we walked the little hunter trial course which the hunt had opened for a schooling day. We have been there so many times we could go round with our eyes closed, but as we walked the course I tried to give some pointers about lines of approach and so forth; however, neither child was very receptive.

“This is supposed to be fun,” I reminded myself, “don’t wreck it with a barrage of instructions.”

It was only when the children got on their ponies that things started to go pear-shaped.

Mary had assumed jelly-mode and was asking me to lead Sally, who wanted to be with Izzy. Already I could feel my shoulders forming a rictus around my ears.

“I simply haven’t got the patience for this,” I growled as Mary refused to go out of a walk.

We all agreed that Alec should head off first and leave Mary and Sally to go around steadily once they were out of sight. This was fine, but Mary was still refusing to trot. With no guidance from her rider about what was expected, Sally was distracted, looking for the other pony and occasionally releasing an ear-bending squeal.

Of course, hindsight is a marvellous thing. Looking back, I should probably have let Mary go around as she wanted, leading her over the smallest fences at a walk, or simply taken her back to the trailer, but I was a mad woman yanking at Sally’s bridle, entreating Mary increasingly volubly to go forward faster than a walk.

Finally, Mary kicked Sally into a trot – anything to get away from me – but at exactly that moment, with pitch-perfect timing, a pheasant flew across their path. Sally shied violently and chucked Mary over her shoulder on to the track. To give her her due, Mary was back on within seconds, unhurt, still crying but – small blessings – moving forwards faster than a walk.

I pursued them huffing and puffing through the trees, past a friend who was calmly walking around with her two children.

“The joys,” she called after us, understandingly.

When we finally reached the end, Adam was there with Alec and it was pretty obvious that things weren’t going well.

“I wouldn’t bother with all this again,” he said later. “Just let Mary ride around the farm with Eildon.”

Some good advice which I will very happily take.

“I could feel my shoulders forming a rictus around my ears”